Story of the New Year
by Doodlez1996
Summary: A post-Reichenbach story. Yes I have succumbed to the Reichenbach fall. One-Shot! Rated T for violence and swearing.


Doodlez: Okay this is my first Sherlock based fanfiction. I am writing another one but this just sprung to mind while I was writing my other one so well here it goes. No it has not been brit picked but if you like you can send me your comments and I will get the problems fixed as soon as I can. This is just a one-shot so please be gentle with me. (Sorry if they are a bit OOC)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock sadly but. I am just borrowing the characters hehe.

A lone and broken man is on his knees in flat 221 B. A gun pressed to his temple memories of his flatmate who had jumped to his death three years earlier rushing through his mind. He sees them handcuffed together running through alley ways and climbing fences. He remembers sitting in Buckingham palace with his flatmate wrapped up in a sheet having forgotten his pants, laughing about random things that came to mind. Lastly he remembers his flatmates face as he stood on the top of St. Barts roof leaving his note. He remembers the fall and the panic… and all of the blood… so much blood. It is New Years Eve and John is all by himself upstairs in the flat which has barely been touched. His gun resting on his temple tears running down his face. is downstairs talking to her sister who came over to celebrate New Years with her. John is left alone upstairs plotting his death.

*POV *

I can hear John upstairs sobbing my sister is sitting in the room with me. I know that John has been taking Sherlock's death hard over the last three years. The poor dear I have always believed there was something more between those two. Sherlock may have been cold and calloused on the outside but he was a sweet boy on the inside. I know John is upset he is every year during this time. I wish that things would change but I know they won't. John has barely left the flat and Lestrade and Mycroft bless the dears have been coming frequently to check on him. Though I do think that there is something going on between those two with the eyes they have been making at each other. I'm sitting in my living room when there is a knock at the door. I get up to answer it because I know John won't because his leg is getting bad and he won't even leave his flat. I answer the door and nearly fall to the floor. I see two people standing in my door way Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade I see someone behind them but I usher them in.

Gregory steps closer to Mycroft revealing who is standing behind them. I look and in my shock I faint.

*POV Sherlock*

I rush forward and catch her as she is falling backward. She should wake up in a few minutes. I mean I was expecting this after all they did think I was "dead" for three years. The minutes pass and Mrs. Hudson comes to and begins to cry. I don't know how long I sit there holding her in my arms as she is sobbing. I explain to her what happened how I faked my death and why I did it. She nods understandingly but her eyes then go wide.

"John! Dear John, He's been so upset. The poor dear has barely left his flat! He's been so depressed. Oh dear Sherlock, you need to go to him and quickly I don't know how much longer he'll last!" Mrs. Hudson says this with worry and tears falling down her cheeks. I look up the stairs and my eyes go wide as I run up the stairs.

*POV Lestrade and Mycroft*

We watch Sherlock go running up the stairs in a panicked way. We hear him shouting at John when suddenly there is the sound of a struggle and a gunshot shortly followed by a cry of pain. Both of us followed shortly by Mrs. Hudson and hr sister Mrs. Turner following quickly behind us. We get up there and John looks panicked pressuring the bullet wound in Sherlock's chest. None of us know what really happened so we ask John.

*POV Third Person John*

John is sitting up there with the gun pressed to his temple debating on the time to fire the weapon and ending his life to be with Sherlock. He doesn't even hear the footsteps running up the stairs two at a time or even the door slamming open. As he gets ready to pull the trigger. Suddenly he hears a shout looking up he sees Sherlock who is pale and overly sweaty running toward him.

"John, stop this! Don't I'm alive I'm right here!" Sherlock runs his face flushed from clear strain. Grabbing the gun fighting against John's grip.

"You're not real I saw you jump! I checked your pulse dammit! You're just another hallucination!" John cries trying to pull the gun back to his temple. He succeeds and finally gets it back to his head and is ready to pull the trigger. Sherlock's grip comes back and he grabs onto it and pulls it toward him just as John pulls the trigger.

Sherlock's expression is not one of surprise but extreme agony as the bullet rips through his upper left chest. He cries out in agony as he falls hitting the floor blood coursing from the wound. Sherlock's face flushes and his breathing becomes labored as four sets of feet come running up the stairs. They look at him and search for answers.

"John, what happened?" Greg looks over a John who has the consulting detective in his lap pressuring the wound. After explaining John yells at them to call an ambulance. John has tears running down his face as he holds pressure on his best friends wound.

"Sherlock, come on stay with me!" John panics looking down at his friends still form. Soon the ambulance comes and John is whisked away with Sherlock into the ambulance. Though once they arrive at the hospital they will not let John past the two doors leading to the OR. The five of them are sitting in the waiting room waiting for news on the severely injured man. Sherlock is in surgery for two hours before a doctor finally comes out to the group.

"Sherlock Holmes?" The doctor looks up from the clipboard with a small smile on his face.

"That's us." Mycroft steps forward knowing full well he should after all he knew about Sherlock being alive all this time.

"Mr. Holmes, is in critical condition. He had a bullet just barely an inch from his heart. His shoulder suffered some severe damage from the close range bullet. But we also had to repair a stab wound that he apparently got over twenty four hours ago that went untreated and got infected. We have repaired all of the damage and will be moving him into a private room so you all can see him. He should wake up shortly from the anesthetic but he will be a bit groggy. Is there a man named John, in here? He was asking for a man named John, as we put him under." The doctor explains.

"I'm John," John gets up his leg sore and agony filled.

"John, can you come with me we want you there when he wakes up because he was very panicked when we tried to put him under. Once he wakes up and is calmed down we will send someone to come get the rest of you." The doctor replies looking at John with a small smile on his face. As he leads John to the room where Sherlock is laying still on the bed. John is left alone with Sherlock so he takes the time to look his best friend over. He sees deep bags under his friends eyes and a few bruises on his face there are numerous scars on his arms. John pulls back the sheet to check the bandages and how Sherlock's wounds look. John doesn't notice the man on the bed is now looking up at him curiously.

"John?" Sherlock asks weakly causing John to jump slightly.

"Sherlock, I'm so…" John starts but is cut off by Sherlock.

"John, it's okay I scared you so there is no problem it was not your fault." Sherlock explains.

"Sherlock, why didn't you tell me you were still alive?" John whispers his voice caught in his throat.

"John, I had to fake my suicide. Moriarty, had snipers trained on Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and You. I was not going to let you all get shot. So during those three years I had Mycroft, keep an eye on you. I was taking down the last of Moriarty's web. I just recently handled the last one. Sebastien Moran, he was tricky and I ended up getting stabbed as you can tell. When Mycroft, came to pick up the last guy and myself, all I could think about was getting back to everyone. I got this bloody infection from it but it was worth it just to be able to see everyone and stop you." Sherlock looks up weakly at John.

"Your hair has gotten longer and you are covered in bruises and it looks like you haven't been eating right. Sherlock, are you okay?" John asks looking at the man below him.

"I'm okay John, I'm actually more worried about you. I have no idea how long you have been like that. I need to leave here." Sherlock pushes up into a sitting position.

"Sherlock, you need to lay back down. You shouldn't be sitting up." John tries pushing Sherlock back down onto the bed.

"John, I have had way worse than this in the past three years. I've had blood loss and infections and been beaten worse than I am right now." Sherlock's eyes hold a void of emotion.

"Sherlock, I missed you. You know that right?" John asks looking at the man sitting in the bed.

"John, what the bloody hell are you talking about?" Sherlock looks over at John a confused expression on his face.

"What do you mean Sherlock?" John asks looking equally confused.

"John, I never really left you." Sherlock looks rather flustered.

"You didn't what do you mean by that?" John asks looking over his flatmate with a confused expression on his face.

"Oh bloody hell John!" Sherlock finally has had it with the act he pulls his flatmate in for a kiss that is rough but chaste.

"Oh oh!" John laughs and slightly kisses back a small blush creeps onto his cheeks.

"You see John, that's why I never really left you. I kinda had Mycroft, keeping an eye on you." Sherlock blushes.

"Oh you shut up you bloody git and kiss me."

With this the story ends and the two live together with their crazy schemes and chasing criminals. The two were obviously meant to be.

Doodlez: I didn't know where to go from here so there ya have it! The end.


End file.
